


Second Full Moon

by dearxalchemist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Military, Mission Fic, Skinwalker, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU -  He’s never seen a witch quite like her. She blows the aptitude test clear out of the water, her power is strong enough to set new standards. She’s a metalworker. They put her directly under him after all, making his secret that much harder to contain. She propels him forward, keeps him dry in the rain and so much more. She pushes him to limits that have never been tested before.  The beast in his veins approves. She doesn't flinch at the sight of him and it fills him with pride.  He kneels to her, exposes his throat, this is a true exchange of power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Full Moon

He’s never seen a witch quite like her. She blows the aptitude test clear out of the water, her power is strong enough to set new standards. She’s a metalworker. Iron runs heavy in her veins and gold colors her hair and shines in her brown eyes. Her aim is as good as her magic and together they rise in the ranks. They put her directly under him after all, making his secret that much harder to contain. She propels him forward, keeps him dry in the rain and so much more. She pushes him to limits that have never been tested before. 

He itches under the power of the full moon. His skin peels back, dries up, flakes away, he feels like he’s falling apart as scales etch over his flesh. It’s all vibrant shades of blue. From the brightest turquoise to the darkest navy, they cover him from the crest of his shoulder down to the tips of his finger, eating at the skin along his chest. Fire comes easy to him, burns through his fingers, scorch marks edge along the tips of his nails. It leaves behind soot that soap can’t even scrub away.

If the military found out of his little scaly problem, he would be kicked out, imprisoned even. He somehow managed to pass the physical while avoiding the blood test all those years ago. The blood test was the important one that kept out his kind, the skinwalkers. The test could show scientists and medical experts the signs of a skin walker, making men and women like him guinea pigs for science. They wouldn't be allowed in the military for risk of spreading their condition. The public called it a blood _disease_. It was an epidemic among scientists and the naive, everyone claiming the disease turned them into something unnatural, _inhuman_. When the moon went full he turned into something dark and scaly, fire-breathing and dangerous. Unlike other skinwalkers, he held no clan, no pack to follow. He’s no better off than the wolves that walk on both four and two legs. Men and women like him are discriminated upon, their disease is easily spread once blood is spilled. The military looks for her kind though, they seek out the magic users, promote them, pay them better like special benefits for wielding something so dangerous. 

Women like her are promoted, but never into the proper ranks. Some days she deserves to be above him wearing the Colonel’s stars and stripes. Even so she never really complains, she simply stands next to him, stoic with a sharp gaze, the ever perfect soldier consistently alert.She’ll still rank high just never as high as she deserves. He makes a silent vow to carry her to the top with him. Her gaze shifts and his skin pricks with excitement. They’re on watch in the car, a steady stream rain is slipping along the windshield, pattering across the roof and sidewalk. Something shifts in the distance, a set of eyes flashes across the front of the headlights, bright and reflective. Riza’s fingers flex for her guns, he is useless in the rain. Her power washes over him and it makes his inner beast roar, deafening him for a moment. She is a raw unfiltered power that makes him want to yield. Still he keeps a strong demeanor present, letting his witch and mismatch team handle most of the missions sent their way. 

He could be so much more than a stern demeanor if he could just show the military what his beast can do. Whatever is outside of the car must feel her power too because it’s gone within a few seconds, fleeing the wave of magic that spills from her. It practically radiates away from her and sinks into his skin while his fingers grip the steering wheel. He urges his beast to calm down. He has to contain himself around her. It’s hard to though when all he wants to do is kneel and show her his scales, tilts his head back and give her his throat in a power exchange. He resists doing just that and settles with his hands on the wheel. Roy knows better than to give girls like Riza his secret.

Girls like Riza are powerful and rare, but she’s the first of her kind. Her metal calling powers make her a deadly marksman. She rarely misses and when she does, it’s usually on purpose. If she senses anything under his skin, she doesn’t let him know. She keeps it to herself, keeps him out of the rain, often keeps him inside on the nights of the full moon. He doesn’t ask how she knows of his scaly little problem, he just lets it be. Maybe she only thinks him a wolf and with that thought in his head, he can sleep better at night. The rain continues to pour when their shift ends.

The next mission sends them to the desert-like territory with deep canyons that run lines and lines of metal railways that seems to keep Hawkeye at ease. All while he revels in the sunshine, soaking in the heat of the land. His beast begs to be set free, he manages to keep control but his shadow gives him away. He lets his troop walk ahead of him so he can stretch out invisible wings. She looks back at him and he finds himself losing that finely tuned control. He comes undone like old piano wire; curling at the edges, sharp and dangerous. They get word of a new enemy and a telegram is sent their way, leading them South. 

Rain becomes his natural enemy. It is almost never ending on the outskirts of the rebel city. They’re sent to keep order. His men are put on the front line of the poorly designed roads. Mud cakes along the edges of buildings, dirt paths are expertly carved between makeshift roads. The over-saturated Earth makes his boots sink further into the mud. It’s been raining for a week. It’s raining when Riza takes the bullet. Her magic isn’t able to shield them all when the rebels began firing on them. Groups of anti-military protesters litter the streets, trying to force the Government out of their city. She manages to save most of his mismatched squadron, but not herself. The sudden intake of breath pulls his attention, then he sees the red, smells the copper lingering in the air. She’s been hit. The force is enough to knock her down to her knees. The front of her uniform blossoms with something darker than rainwater. The Colonel’s restraint snaps. Something draws a roar from his throat and his insides are an inferno. 

Fire engulfs the area around them. His uniform tears. His bones twist and turn. There’s a snap and a crunch, joints breaking free and reassembling themselves. His squadron takes a step back, collectively torn between orders to stand ground or run away from the skinwalker. Their leader is an illegal skinwalker, a carrier of the _disease_. It’s quite a sight to see. No one runs just yet. His crew stand their ground. Riza’s breathing quickens and he throws the fire outwards. He manages to make the rebels flee in terror. Slurs are thrown at not only him but his subordinates. He roars again. It’s a sound that she will never forget for as long as she lives. It’s terrifying, bone rattling. His power saturates the city like a heavy blanket. The flames are still burning along the sidewalk when he turns to his subordinate. She's clutching her side, watching him with wide eyes. Her brows are hitched high and he studies her frown then watches as she winces in pain.

His other comrades take a collective step back when he steps forward. Riza however, doesn’t move. She simply stares up at him with a mix of wonder and fear, breathing heavy. He kneels next to her and she doesn’t scamper back from him. Instead she stays still, watching him as he reaches a clawed hand towards her, scales decorate the back of his hands. The scales are a colorful mix of reds with inky dark specks across them. She marvels at him, at the beauty that covers his skin before he pries her fingers away from the wound. There’s a mutual trust between them when he presses his palm over the wound and sears the skin back together, cauterizing the wound. 

His shadow casts massive wings. They stretch wide across the wet asphalt, and she traces the shape of them with her eyes, focusing on them when he goes to work. The heat of his hand on her is intensive. Her power flares against his and the rest of the world is blotted out. She doesn’t scream and he’s impressed. She also doesn’t flinch in his presence and it makes him beam with a sick sense of pride. She’s strong, so strong that the creature in his veins approves. When he pulls his hand away she pales. Sweat slips down the bridge of her nose and her eyes flutter shut. Her body slumps down and he catches her, pulling her up and close before looking up to the rest of his crew. All of them slowly drop to one knee, a sign of respect in any language. With a nod they all stand and collect themselves 

After their mission in the streets, he expects to be called in by his superior officers. It doesn’t happen though. His squadron of mismatched soldiers are loyal to him, loyal to him and the woman that saved them all with her magic. 

The month of October holds a blue moon. It’s a second full moon in the month and his beast is practically clawing away at his skin. He can barely contain himself. His desk holds deep claw marks and the air around him practically vibrates. Roy can barely contain himself when the door opens. Hawkeye comes in and her power washes over him. His beast roars and he grips onto the desk tightly trying to contain himself. He wants to tell her to run, but she does the opposite. He listens as the lock tumbles in the door and then her power fades.

“Let it free, Sir.” She knows his secret. His whole staff does, but right now it’s just the two of them and while he doesn’t want to hurt her, letting go is his best option. He sheds his uniform jacket, then the slacks. He doesn’t bother with folding them. Roy simply tosses them into the chair behind him, he barely has the buttons undone on his white shirt when she hits him with another wave of power. His skin crawls and out come the scales.

“This is a mistake,” He growls out the words, “Get out Lieutenant!” 

The growl turns into a roar but she moves forward and he feels the burning sensation along his hands as the skin begins to slowly break away from his body. A line of fire bursts from his palm but the golden haired woman doesn’t stop. She presses on and before he can lose himself in the change, her cool fingertips are on his face. Riza pulls on him, guides him down to her. He rests his forehead against hers and then she kisses him. She taste like pennies, copper and sharp but she’s soft and cool to the touch. His body runs hot, his beast yields and he slowly pulls back from her grasp and kneels on the ground before her, half of his face breaking away to dark navy blue scales.

Her palm cradles his face and he closes his eyes just before she tells him to let go again. He shudders against her words and does as she commands. Her fingers stroke the scales of his face, down the spine-like ridges of wings and then he somehow becomes hers. He wonders vaguely if she can control more than metal, then pushes the thought aside as she takes in his transformation, calling his beast beautiful. 

This becomes their secret and their routine. 

She keeps him hidden. 

He keeps her safe.

Her power offers him solace and his beast yields.

Control becomes easier as time passes on. They rise together in the ranks. A revolution passes them over and he enjoys a promotion to the highest extent, he watches as Skinwalkers are no longer considered ineligible for the military. They are accepted everyday now, brought to the front lines of battle. Wolves are perfect trackers, other shifters are sorted by their forms. Avian-walkers are set as sharpshooters and messengers while feline species join intelligence legions. No other dragons step forward. He is still one of a kind and it's a secret both him and the lieutenant share. The general public still calls it a _disease_ as they search for a cure, but for now he can rest easy, even when the full moon comes. 

Riza spends every full moon with him until their careers end and then a few years more where he prays the disease isn’t passed to the little girl with dark hair bouncing on his knee. She bends forks at the table and turns them into silver flowers while humming a made-up song, brown eyes concentrating hard as her pink tongue sticks out of her mouth. 

He beams with pride at her metalworking, she is just like her mother.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this to be like super-vague and vignette style, but then I felt like it wasn't detailed enough and now I'm worried it makes no sense but you know what -- ah well. All mistakes are my own and this sort of came to me as a "what if Riza could work metal which is why she has such a great love for firearms" and then as I spoke with a great friend of mine she made the suggestion that Roy was part dragon and HERE WE ARE. So let your imagination fill in the blanks! Enjoy and thank you for reading.


End file.
